


Shelter in the Storm

by anthfan, hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthfan/pseuds/anthfan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tommy's funeral, Felicity finds Oliver on her fire-escape, soaking wet and more lost than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how this came to be what it is...but I'm sure anthfan had a lot to do with it. Either way, this was supposed to be a short drabble that turned into something more. And I hope you don't mind that.
> 
> Comments make my day so please let me know what you think! :)

Felicity went to Tommy’s funeral. She stood in the back with Diggle, her hand finding it’s way to his arm when she saw Oliver’s grief-stricken expression through the crowds of people. Diggle patted her hand reassuringly, and when she locked eyes with him, he told her with a shake of his head that Oliver had to handle this himself.

His expression didn’t shift the entire time - blue eyes filled with so much guilt and grief Felicity could feel his pain just by looking at him.

The ceremony lasted more than an hour and by the time Diggle dropped Felicity off at her apartment, her feet were killing her and a chill had set into her bones from the damp air.

She hadn’t had a chance to even approach Oliver, much less talk to him and it left her uneasy - a weight hanging over her heart.

It was almost ten o’clock when she heard the knocking. Furrowing her brow, she climbed from under her blankets on the sofa and padded to the door. When she looked through the peep-hole no one was there.

The knocking sounded again and she whirled, realizing it hadn’t been coming from her entryway.

Making her way into her bedroom, she quickly crossed to the window that led to the fire escape, and pulled back the curtains.

That was when she saw him - crouched down on the cold metal, head titled back to lean against the railing. She frowned in concern when she noticed he was still wearing his suit from the funeral, now soaking wet from the rain that had been falling for the past hour.

Throwing open the window, she breathed his name.

The blank look in his eyes when they snapped up to hers scared her more than anything. Her hand was halfway to his face before she registered what she was doing and pulled it back to her side. 

Oliver stared at her, his gaze almost expressionless. When he didn’t make a move to come in, she repeated his name.

The small burst of recognition that flashed through his blue eyes gave her some relief, and when she held out her hand, he managed to take it and let her pull him inside.

He landed uneasily on her floor and she felt him shiver as he leaned close in his attempt to balance himself. 

She didn’t think, she just reacted - tugging the sleeves of the suit coat down as she pushed it over his broad shoulders. 

When he didn’t fight her, more panic flared within her. His dress shirt was soaked as well, clinging to his well-defined torso and she took a sharp breath, debating what to do next. 

“Oliver…” His name tumbled from her lips once more and there must have been something in her voice that caught his attention because his expressionless eyes focused on hers, and he frowned.

“You’re soaking wet...you...you need to get out of those clothes,” she managed, tramping down the images that rose to her mind, and instead focusing on Oliver.

He looked at her in confusion and then glanced down to see the puddle he was leaving on her hardwood floor. 

Before she knew what he was doing, he’d started to unbutton his shirt and she watched, trying to figure out if she had somehow fallen asleep on the couch and was in the middle of one of her dreams. 

Everytime she caught a glimpse of his eyes, she knew this was not part of one of her dreams. The man in her dreams was not as broken as he looked in this moment.

When the shirt fell to the floor, he dropped his hands to his buckle and Felicity let out a soft squeak as she turned around, almost running for her closet to see if she had anything he could wear.

An old pair of her brother’s sweat pants caught her eye from the top shelf and she pulled them down along with an old over-sized shirt she’d stolen from a friend in college.

Turning, she was not prepared for the sight of Oliver Queen dressed in only his black boxers standing in the middle of her bedroom. Her eyes widened, and her breath tripped out of her mouth. His gaze was trained on the floor - shoulders slumped and, in an instant, the liquid heat that was pooling in her stomach turned to concern for the broken man before her.

Slowly, she approached him, stopping a few feet away and holding out the dry clothes.

“Here,” she murmured, and he turned his head and the look in his eyes told her that he’d forgotten she was even there.

“Oh, Oliver,” she murmured, this time, letting her hand fall to his arm, but knowing that’s all she could allow herself to do just then.

His eyes slammed shut and she saw him swallow - his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he fought to gain control of his normally imperturbable emotions.

Every muscle in his body seemed to tense and she let her hand fall away from his arm. “I’m just going to...I’ll be out there…” she mumbled, giving him one last long glance before turning away and heading out of her room.

Walking into the small kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee, and tried not to think about the fact that she had a mostly-naked Oliver Queen in her bedroom. Those runaway thoughts were quickly squashed down when she remembered the expressionless look in his normally fierce blue eyes. He looked so lost; so broken. And while she knew he hadn’t returned from the island a whole man, he’d always managed to keep those shattered pieces under lock and key - only allowing that mask to fall when he was around those he trusted most.

Felicity honestly wasn’t sure how to help him right now. As much as she’d wanted to go to him during the funeral - wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay - she’d known that wasn’t possible. So to have him here now, intentionally seeking her out and letting her see him fall apart was something for which she was not prepared.

After putting the grounds in the coffee pot, she began to pace, her mind awhirl with everything that had happened over the past few days. She'd never seen Oliver like this - even right after losing Tommy, he had never looked so defeated as he did now. She guessed that seeing his best friend lowered into the ground made everything that much more real. 

It was the self-loathing apparent in his eyes that worried her the most. As if he believed he didn't even deserve to live - and her heart dropped with the idea that he wished it would have been him instead.

After almost ten minutes had passed and Oliver still hadn't appeared, she hesitantly approached her door. A part of her wondered if he'd left - gone out the way he came - deciding that coming to her was a mistake. A knot formed in her stomach at the thought. 

The realization that he had come to her when he was at his lowest shifted something deep within her and caused a flame to grow up out the burning embers. Her feelings for this man were complicated, but growing with each passing day. The idea that he would trust her with the deepest and most heartbroken part of him was overwhelming.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob to her door and peeked inside.

The image that met her broke her already fragile heart into pieces. Oliver sat on her bed, sweat pants on but without a shirt. The bandage over his still healing chest wound standing out against his tanned skin. From the moonlight streaming in through the curtains, she could could see his head was bowed and he was staring at his hands. Every few seconds he would scrub them together as if trying to rid them of some unseen substance.

A terrible thought gripped her as she watched him. It was Tommy's blood that he was desperately trying to clean from his hands. But he couldn't.

Without hesitation, she crossed to him, her feet carrying her to him as fast as they could. He didn't look up when she reached him, his eyes staring unseeingly at his hands. The moonlight cast half of his face in shadow, but the side she could see broke her heart. 

There was no easy fix for him on this one. The doors behind which he’d kept his emotions locked down tight had been blown apart with Tommy’s death. She could see the battle raging within him - and ached to be able to fix it all for him.

She felt as if she was watching a scared animal - traumatized by events that had left it skittish of any human contact.

Lifting one hand, she placed gently it on his bowed head, her fingers filtering through the short locks, down to the nape of his neck, where the muscles were corded and taut.

When her fingers shifted against his skin, she felt him release a breath and wondered just how long he'd been holding it.

Felicity let her eyes slip shut and a tear rolled down her cheek at seeing this normally strong and confident man utterly broken.

She didn’t speak. This was not a time for talking. Words were of no use to them right now. This was about comfort given and received. Whatever she might say, he wouldn’t hear. He needed touch, feeling, reassurance that he wasn’t alone.

Time passed slowly, until finally, she saw his shoulders begin to relax.

With the slightest pressure, she kneaded her fingers against his tense muscles, and that’s when she felt him let go. His head fell against her stomach and she almost jumped when both of his large hands gripped the backs of her thighs tightly as if she was his only lifeline.

Her fingers carded through his hair, letting him fall apart against her.

The magnitude of the moment was not lost on Felicity. She knew this was a shifting point in their relationship. While this wasn’t the first time he’d come to her when he was vulnerable, there was a difference between seeking her out when he was bleeding and coming to her when all his defenses were down and he didn’t know who or what to hold on to anymore.

Her heart thrummed rapidly in her chest and she was sure he could hear it just as she could feel his pulse every time her fingers ran down his neck and over his shoulders.

Eventually, his ragged breaths evened out and his grip on her thighs lessened. Her fingers never stopped moving, tracing comforting patterns against his skin as if they were whispered words reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

When he finally lifted his head, she caught the sight of tears on cheeks and the breath caught in her throat. She’d rarely seen Oliver cry - in fact, she’d never truly seen him cry. There was the night they found out about Walter’s supposed death where’s she’d found in him in the Foundry, eyes blankly staring ahead, evidence of dried tears on his face. And then the night Tommy had died…

When he’d finally made it to the Foundry that night, she had crawled as much of the way to the stairs as she could without touching any live wires or jagged rebar. And when he’d pushed his way down the steps, the tear stains were fresh and she’d known something horrible had happened.

Otherwise, Oliver was a man who kept his emotions tightly under lock and key. So letting her see him cry; letting her comfort him and try to ease his pain was a huge step. One she was gladly willing to accept because she’d quickly learned that she’d do pretty much anything for Oliver.

Without giving it more than a passing thought, she leaned down and let her lips ghost over his hair line. His hands flexed on her legs before falling away, the loss of heat acute.

Pulling back, she met his gaze and a trace of recognition and thanks fluttered through his distant eyes. She gave him a hesitant smile and it seemed to relax him even further.

They stared at each other in silence, the hum of the city outside her window the only noise filling the apartment, along with their soft breathing.

Felicity felt the emotions of the day catching up with her as her lids began to fall heavily. She noticed his gaze becoming unfocused and caught the dark circles underneath his eyes, and wondered how long it had been since he’d actually slept.

Without another thought, she leaned past him and pulled down the covers on her queen-sized bed. When she’d finished, she turned back to to him and tugged on his hands, somewhat alarmed when he let her move him. 

Shaky hands fell to his broad shoulders, the skin underneath her palms hot and still slightly damp from the rain. She pushed him down onto her mattress and her cheeks flamed when she felt his gaze on her, but when he moved with her gentle touch, she knew he was in no place to argue with her. 

What she hadn’t expected was his hands to find her hips as he laid backward, bringing her with him. A sharp gasp left her lips as she fell against his chest. Her hands automatically reached for his arms, as he settled himself against her pillow. His scent surrounded her now and for a moment, she lay still in his arms. Then, without thinking she snuggled into him, her breaths coming out in short pants as she tried to wrap her mind around the idea that she was now lying in her bed with Oliver.

She shifted herself so her head rested just above his heart and it wasn’t until one of his hands fell against her hair that she let herself relax. Looking up, she caught his gaze, and the brokenness laid bare before her was almost more than she could handle. 

Felicity wanted nothing more than to be able to heal him, but she knew that would take time. So for now, she slipped her arm around his waist and ghosted it up and down his back as their legs tangled together. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt her skin slip on the wetness under her cheek and moved her head so it wouldn’t seep into his bandage. 

Oliver’s hand tightened around her waist and she felt him bury his head against her hair as his lungs pulled in ragged breath after ragged breath. The tension slowly slipped from his body and with it, hers did as well until she couldn’t imagine any other way to fall asleep than with his arms wrapped securely around her.

Her realistic brain reminded her that this wasn’t a normal occasion and more than likely this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again. Getting to feel so safe as she drifted to sleep, surrounded by Oliver, was something precious and made her treasure it even more.

Her fingers continued to trace patterns against his back until she felt his breathing even out, little puffs of breath spanning over her shoulder where his head was still pressed.

Her thoughts began to stray as she fought sleep, this man who owned more of her heart than she was willing to admit pressed up against her. He was so far from the man who donned the green leather and wielded a bow and arrow. A stray thought flited through her mind that taunted her with the idea that he may never be willing to be that man again.

And if he wasn’t the Hood...where did that leave her? What happened to their team? Would he just vanish from her life completely?

Felicity wasn’t sure she was prepared for that reality. One in which she didn’t get to interact with Oliver Queen every day; to see his small smiles at her gaffes and the determination that laced his every decision. The hero he’d become over the past few months was the one she’d always seen deep within him. 

Only now, what was left of that man? He seemed so desolate, so broken, and she had the intense need to help fix him; to fit the pieces of his heart and soul back together and remind him of the man she had always seen deep inside.

As she mulled over these thoughts, another popped unbidden into her mind. Why had he come here? To her? He’d shown up on her windowsill; sought out her for comfort and safety. But why?

Not that she wasn’t happy he’d reached out to her. She’d rather him be here and safe than alone with his guilt-ridden conscious and grieving heart. 

Those unanswered questions were ones she couldn’t let herself dwell upon and so she took a deep breath and eased them out of her mind.

Focusing on his steady heartbeat beneath her ear, she let herself drift off to sleep.

She wasn’t sure what woke her - maybe it was the missing body heat or the sudden realization that he was no longer next to her - but her eyes fluttered open and focused on movement in the corner of the room.

She twisted, blinking away sleep, just in time to see a dressed Oliver begin to slip out of her window into the early morning dawn.

“So you’re running…” Her voice was scratchy with sleep but loud enough that it stopped him in his tracks.

He didn’t turn, but she saw his head drop and the muscles in his back tense even through the t-shirt she’d given him last night.

A lump formed in her throat at the realization that he was going to sneak away - run - without even saying goodbye. Her chest tightened and a small fissure formed in a corner of her heart.

Slowly, she turned and curled herself against the pillows, his scent still fresh on the cotton linens.

“You know I can find you, right?” she whispered, more desperately than she wanted.

At those words, his head snapped up and he turned, his eyes catching hers in a look that took the air from her lungs. 

Sad, pleading eyes stared back at her, silently begging her to let him do this - let him run - let him go.

“Are you coming back?” The question fell from her lips before she could stop it and she felt her heart shatter when his shoulders sagged and he still said nothing.

A choked sob escaped her throat and she clamped her eyes shut, feeling the warm tears that slipped down her cheeks, but not bothering to even try to wipe them away. 

She couldn't fix this. She couldn’t fix him. Not yet, at least. He needed to do this - to run. It was how he’d survived on the island for so long. It was the only way he knew how to handle a loss like Tommy’s. 

The fact that he was looking at her - asking for her permission to do it was another shock. His eye begged her to let him run - at least for a little while. From his expression, she knew that if she asked him not to, he wouldn't. But it just might break him. Her heart fell and she knew she had to let him go; silently praying that it would only be for a little while.

She felt the air shift in front of her and didn’t realize he was there until his lips grazed against her cheek, kissing away her tears. Her hands scrabbled blindly for his shirt, clinging to him for seconds before she felt him begin to pull away. She felt him hesitate - felt his reluctance to leave her like this. 

A foreign sound tore from her throat and she buried her head in her pillow - a whispered “Go” on her lips.

_But please come back._

His ragged breath ghosted over her face once more before she felt him press a solid kiss against her hair. Calloused fingers caught the hand still clinging to his shirt and as she loosened them, she felt him hold on as long as possible before her fingertips fell from his, and she pulled her arm against her stomach.

By the time she opened her eyes, the window was shut tight and he was gone.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she laid there - her head pressed into the pillow where his scent still clung. Her tears had dried, and she felt comfortably numb.

It wasn’t until her phone went off that she moved, heading for the desk where it sat to charge. Diggle’s face popped up on the screen and she answered with shaking hands and a deep shuddering breath.

“He’s gone, Felicity,” he said softly, and she could hear him scrub a hand over his face.

Her eyes fell to the floor and she saw his white dress shirt still lying in a heap on her hardwood floor. Bending down, she picked it up - the still damp material.

“I know,” she croaked, moving to the bed and sitting on the end, much like she’d found Oliver the night before. “I know.”

That fissure in her heart began to crack as she clutched the material to her chest, and held on to the only piece of him she had left.

She hoped - with all her heart - that he would find what he was looking for and come back. 

To his family. To the team. To _her_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five months later, Felicity and Diggle set out in search of Oliver. But when they find him, emotions run high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're response to the first part of this blew me away! I sincerely hope you enjoy the second part! The third should be posted on Tuesday! I hope! :)
> 
> As always, THANK YOU to all of you who leave comments or kudos! It means so much! I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter as well!
> 
> Also, huge, huge, huge, thank you to anthfan, you has edited and been my cheerleader on this and I can't thank her enough! (As well as co-wrote the third part with me!)

They waited five months, and then everything started to cave. The company. The city. Her own heart. And they couldn’t wait for him any longer.

As she pulled up the searches she’d started months ago to keep tabs on him, she prayed he’d forgive her for going after him now. But the city needed him. The company needed him. His family needed him. _She_ needed him.

The plane ride and landmine had thrown enough of her equilibrium off that as they followed Oliver back through the forest to his camp, she felt her legs wobbling and her heart about to beat out of her chest. 

They’d actually found him. When she’d heard his voice for the first time in months she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. The cracks he’d left by his departure began to fill in as she locked eyes with him for the first time, and she knew, without a doubt, that he’d save her.

She followed him closely as they walked, Oliver in the lead and Diggle taking up the rear - her, protected in the middle. She’d roll her eyes if she wasn’t so very thankful. After accidentally stepping on a landmine and being in a strange place with noises she’d never heard before, her nerves were fraying at the edges.

The entire conversation after arriving at his campsite had not gone as planned, but she felt the pressure on her chest lighten ever so gradually when her comments about coconuts pulled a smile from him - a genuine, heartfelt smile.

And when his hand landed on her shoulder and he whispered that he was happy to see her, the look that they shared caught her off-guard, filling her with something indescribable. An apology filtered through his blue eyes, thanking her and begging her to understand at the same time. It was then that her defenses fell and she launched herself into his arms. 

He caught her easily, and she buried her face into his shirt - his same familiar scent surrounding her. The scent that had too quickly begun to fade from the white dress shirt - along with a ridiculously expensive suit - that he’d left in her apartment so many months ago. The one she wore to bed every night, hoping that someday she wouldn’t just have to cling to his shirt - that one day, his strong arms would be wrapped around her instead of flimsy cotton.

She fought back the sobs that threatened to overtake her when she heard Diggle clear his throat. It was too short, but she propelled herself backwards and blinked away tears as she glanced at the two men.

Diggle wore an inscrutable look on his face and she knew she’d get questions later. For now, they focused on why they’d come.

The stab to her heart came when Oliver basically told them he didn’t want to return. Her eyes flew to his and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do this. Not after they’d risked so much to come and find him. Not after she’d put so much of her heart into everything...for him.

The moment he agreed, she felt like she could breathe deeply for the first time since he’d crawled through her bedroom window five months ago.

Although she wanted to hug him again - wrap her arms around his neck to take away the worry and pain present in his eyes at the thought of returning to a city that had broken him - she held back. If she did it again, she wasn’t sure she’d let go. And she was not prepared to have _that_ conversation with Diggle yet.

The sun was on a downward descent by the time their decision had been reached and when Diggle explained the plane that would pick them up couldn’t fly out again until the next morning, Felicity froze.

“We’re spending the night here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from wavering as she glanced around the vine-covered shelter.

She saw Oliver glance at her but refused to meet his gaze, not wanting to let the storm of fear that had flooded her face.

“There’s no one else here,” Oliver said softly, and she knew he was saying that for her benefit. “I’ve been alone for the past five months.”

“I’m sure that’s supposed to comfort me, but I did step on a landmine today,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light but she heard the tremor run through it. “Regardless of how old it was, it still worked…”

“Hey,” Digg came up behind her. “You jumped out of a plane this morning onto a deserted island. And don’t make me remind you of the night you saved my ass outside the club. You got this.”

Felicity couldn’t help but snort, but gave him a look of appreciation, her nerves abating somewhat.

She felt Oliver’s gaze on them and when she turned, his eyes were narrowed and hard as he glared at Diggle. “Saved your ass?” 

Anger laced through his words, and she could see the muscle working in his jaw.

“Things are pretty bad in the Glades, Oliver,” Diggle responded, just as tightly. “Not even the walk from the back door of the club is an easy one some nights.”

The larger man said nothing else, turning away and going through the backpack of supplies he’d brought. Oliver let his eyes fall to her and she swallowed as regret and self-loathing shadowed his gaze.

Felicity tried to give him a half-hearted smile but knew he saw right through it when he turned sharply and continued throwing his few supplies into a bag.

Night fell quickly, and there wasn’t much spoken between the three as they ate a few berries and cereal bars that Felicity had the foresight to pack. Although Oliver offered her some meat, she shook her head, not sure she could stomach anything too much with the way her body was a ball of nerves.

Oliver gave her the small cot he had in the corner of the open area, insisting without words that she use it. She balled up her jacket to use as a pillow and curled up, pulling her knees almost to her chest and pinching her eyes shut.

A moment later a blanket fell over her and she glanced up to see Oliver hovering above her, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Felicity murmured a thank you before shifting and turning away from them, knowing she couldn’t keep the tears at bay any longer.

She listened until she heard both of their breathing patterns even out and then she let the tears stream down her cheeks. A loud squawk startled her and she froze, a tiny gasp on her lips when leaves shifted outside their covering.

Trying to pull in deep, measured breaths, she reminded herself that she had two of the strongest and bravest men she knew sleeping feet away from her. She was safe, even in the middle of an island called “purgatory.”

In order to stave off the panic attack rising within her, she focused on Oliver and Diggle’s breathing, amazed that she could pick out which one was Oliver. As she listened, she pretended she was back in her apartment with him five months prior, her head against his chest as she fell asleep in his arms.

She’d felt so safe them; so protected. Even if he’d been falling apart, he’d managed to hold her together. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

As much as she tried to keep her mind from wandering to the morning after that night, images of him slipping through her window flashed against the backs of her eyelids. Her dreams for the weeks following that had been of Oliver’s lips on her cheek just before he disappeared in front of her very eyes.

Tears pressed at the back of her lids and she turned her head to stifle the sob that was crawling it’s way north in her throat. 

He was only a few feet from her now, but it still felt as if he was miles away. So far that she would never see him again.

Her shoulders shook with her silent cries and she gave up trying to keep them inside. 

Then she felt the air shift around her again, just like it had five months ago when he ran, and her body shuddered. Only this time, two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her into a solid chest.

Her body tensed for half a second until she recognized his scene and a strangled sob escaped her lips. She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep it as quiet as possible - not wanting to wake Digg.

Oliver nuzzled his face into her hair as he settled next to her on the cot, his arms tightening around her. In the darkness, his fingers found hers and tangled with them, squeezing softly before she felt him begin to press kisses against her hair.

With each kiss, she felt him begging for forgiveness - for leaving, for hurting her, for everything.

She tried to shake her head, tried to tell him she knew this is what he needed, that she didn’t blame him. That while she’d been angry at first, she knew it was what he’d needed. It took her awhile, but she finally realized that part of the reason he’d run was because he didn’t want to hurt anyone else - including her.

Because that’s all he thought he’d done since he’d returned from the island.

So, earlier, when they’d finally found him, instead of reprimanding him for actually disappearing, she’d chosen to yell at him for not being happy to see them. He didn’t need more guilt piled onto his soul; he needed that gentle shove to remind him that there were still people who needed him; _wanted_ him around.

When he released a ragged breath that coasted through her hair and over her shoulder, her body responded with a deep shudder.

Oliver’s arms responded, holding her closer, one leg shifting to cover hers, effectively tucking her securely into the crook of his body.

Wrapped in his cocoon, the sobs subsided and she managed to slowly regain her breath. Even in the midst of an island jungle, she’d never felt as safe as she did in those moments.

Finally, she turned, and Oliver loosened his arms enough to allow her that tiny bit of movement.

When her eyes flicked up to his, she saw such conflict in his blue eyes. There was regret and sadness as well as concern and something deeper and more intimate. A gasp stuck in her throat and she shut her eyes when his lips fell to her temple, pressing a soft but meaningful kiss into her skin. Burrowing into his arms, she let her head fall to his chest, suddenly aware that he was no longer wearing the shirt he’d had on earlier. 

His skin was warm beneath her touch and she pressed one hand over his heart, the feel of his slightly elevated - yet steady - heartbeat beneath her fingertips lulling her to sleep.

Just before she drifted off, she let out a deep breath that ghosted over his skin and she felt the muscles bunch and tense as her lips fell to his skin, a spark jolting through her.

But the warmth and comfort that surrounded her, kept her eyes closed and she fell asleep, with her face pressed against his chest, his skin soaking up her tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Felicity is taken by a known serial killer, Oliver and Felicity's relationship is changed for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Your support for this story has been AMAZING! Thank you so much!
> 
> This last chapter was co-written by anthfan. She basically wrote it all save for a few paragraphs in the middle. The steaminess and angst and beautiful writing is all hers. 
> 
> Also, please note, that we wrote those BEFORE we knew anything about the character of Barton Mathis so this is our own spin on that character. (If you've seen the sneak peak, you'll understand.) 
> 
> And the final note, the rating has changed with this chapter! Just a heads up!

Six weeks. He’d only been back six weeks before everything went to hell. 

As she studied herself in her bathroom mirror and touched a finger to the bruise at her temple, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for everything that happened. Lance had approached her about helping bring in Barton Mathis. Oliver had resisted, and looking back she had wished with everything in her that she had listened. 

But she hadn’t listened, she’d pushed and pushed because she needed to absolve her failures as much as he did, and eventually he gave in even though something told him not to, even though he was worried about unknown variables and things going wrong. He agreed because she’d asked him, and she knew he would give in. He rarely said no to her now, and she knew that. She’d used that against him. And it made her sick. 

Lance and Oliver had done their best to keep her safe, but Mathis was good. He’d gotten her away from them. She’d heard Oliver’s echoing roar as she’d been thrown bodily into the trunk of a car, a swift fist catching her above her right eye before she lay stunned, only able to watch weakly as the lid was shut and she was left in the darkness. 

She’d lost track of time after that. There were dark rooms and unforgiving concrete before he took her into a large open space with equipment and tools she’d rather not remember. Mathis had strung her up by her hands, rough rope cutting into her wrists as the ache in her shoulders steadily grew until the fire flaring through her muscles was so white hot it almost felt cold. 

He’d toyed with her, just like Lance said he’d done with his other victims. She tuned him out as best she could. The punches to her ribs weren’t as easy to ignore. Every breath was harsh as she tried her best to concentrate on anything other than what he was saying and doing. Her only consolation was that she knew he kept the women alive for days before he tired of them and slit their throats. There was time for Oliver to find her. 

When he came, it wasn’t quiet. She heard the fighting in an adjacent room and cool relief flowed over her. Mathis was the only one in the room with her. He’d come around behind her and had a long knife pressed into her neck as he waited for Oliver to enter. 

She bit her lip in an effort to not cry out when he kicked the door in, bow at the ready. He’d ordered Mathis to back away, not even bothering to use the voice modulator. He didn’t need it. His voice was so low it was barely intelligible. She’d never heard him so affected before. 

Mathis’s hand twitched and she winced, feeling a sharp pain under her chin. When a warm trickle began to roll down her neck, she held her breath. 

Oliver tensed imperceptibly and when Mathis’s hand moved again there was only the smallest hesitation before he released the arrow. 

She felt Mathis slump against her before he fell to the floor. Tears now falling freely, she saw Oliver take two steps in her direction when Lance came barrelling through the door. 

Oliver’s eyes met hers, and despite the pain and the hood, she could see him enough to see the guilt and shame threatening to take over every aspect of his soul. 

She wanted to console him. She wanted to tell him it was okay, but it wasn’t okay. None of it was okay. 

Lance paused and looked between them before he regained his composure and radioed for backup and medics as he raced to her side. 

Oliver stared at her hard and then in a blur of green leather he was gone.

Lance was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing through her head. When he cut her arms down she fell into him, unable to keep from crying out as her hands lowered for the first time in hours. He sliced the bindings from her wrists and wrapped an arm about her, half carrying her out into the cold night air. 

He sat her in the passenger seat of his car and turned the heat on full while he waved over the medics. He never left her side as they checked her out and patiently waited for her to go through the worst of the pain as feeling began to slowly return to her limbs. 

She had shut her eyes tight and just focused on her breathing until it was down to a dull ache with an occasional shooting bolt of fire as nerves and muscles woke back up. Her wrists were cleaned and bandaged but she didn’t mention the ribs, she’d spent enough time with Oliver and Digg to know there was nothing that could be done for them. She protested when they wanted to take her to the hospital, a firm shake of her head no had them placing an I.V and insisting she take half a bag of fluids before she could leave. She conceded and Lance held the bag while she told him everything that had happened. 

The only way she was able to make it through her statement was because she knew Oliver was close. She kept herself from scanning the rooftops and firescapes of the surrounding buildings, but she knew he was there, knew he was watching her. 

Lance’s guilt was palpable, but Oliver’s screamed at her. He’d killed. The vow he’d made when he’d agreed to come back, to be better in Tommy’s memory, to be a hero, had been obliterated in six short weeks. And it was all her fault. 

She wanted to go back to the lair, however, Lance insisted on taking her home himself and she couldn’t tell him not to. Before they left an officer jogged up and handed him something. It ended up being her purse with her phone still inside. Without waiting she tapped out a text to Oliver and Digg assuring them she was okay but that Lance was taking her to her apartment. 

Digg replied immediately making her promise to call him when she could. Oliver was silent, but it was because she knew he was still out there. She hoped he’d go home, but she knew he wouldn’t, she knew he’d go back and work himself into exhaustion as a form of punishment and she wanted so badly to fix him then but she didn’t know if she could. 

Lance walked her up to her door, silent and brooding until she finally told him not to blame himself. He’d just pressed his mouth into a hard line and shook his head. He insisted she call him if she needed anything and she said she would. He apologized twice more before he finally left her alone. 

Now she stood in her bathroom after the longest shower of her life. The simple act of washing her hair had resulted in tears from the effort to raise her arms high enough. By the time she was finished she was shaking and weak. 

Knowing she’d never get a shirt over her head she reached into her closet and pulled out the only item she could even consider wearing. It was the dress shirt Oliver had left on her floor the night of Tommy’s funeral. 

All that she’d had left of him after he’d gone was a waterlogged suit and that dress shirt. It took her almost a week to decide to take them to the dry cleaners. If they realized they had a handmade, custom order Italian suit in their possession they didn’t charge her for it. The dress shirt she didn’t take in though. After it had dried she could still smell his cologne on it and a faint trace of leather, so she kept it. The suit hung in her closet in the back, but the shirt she left out. 

She didn’t slip it on for a long while. She’d get it out occasionally and press her nose into the collar, but nothing more. 

One night had changed everything however. 

It was the night Digg had mentioned to Oliver when they were on the island. The night she’d saved him at the club. A gang of looters had surprised him in the parking lot and she’d held them off with the handgun he’d taught her how to use. 

She’d returned home late, stripped off her work clothes and slid her arms into the sleeves before she could consider what she was doing. The cuffs hung past her fingers, the tails brushing mid-thigh as she did up the buttons and climbed into bed. She had wrapped her arms around herself and pretended he was there, in her bed again, holding her. 

After that she’d worn it almost every night. The first time she had to wash it she cried, and drank a bottle of wine. It smelled like her detergent after that and not him and he felt farther away than ever. 

For five months she’d pushed through, focused on rebuilding the lair, and doing what needed to be done. Until they couldn’t do it without him anymore. Then she’d flown halfway around the world and jumped out of a plane to bring him home. 

He’d held her again, providing them both the comfort and reconnection they so desperately needed. If she concentrated hard enough she could still feel his warm breath on her skin and his lips pressed tight to her. Something had changed with them on that island, something neither of them were really ready to acknowledge after they’d returned. 

There were more touches, more smiles, but nothing beyond, and she was content with that - until tonight as she stood in her bathroom shaking with fear and pain, wanting nothing more than for him to hold her again. 

She struggled to do up the buttons of the shirt, her fingers slipping and trembling, making her have to try multiple times before she was successful. 

She caught her own gaze in the mirror and had to look away. She shouldn’t be there. She should be at the lair making sure he was okay. Her exhausted body protested the thought but she pushed it aside. She’d go. She’d go and fix him because someone had to. 

Felicity stepped into her bedroom intending to change once again even though the thought made her want to cry. She wondered if she could get away with pulling on a pair of leggings and going as she was. 

She didn’t get a chance to think any further on it. She stopped short two steps into the room and gasped. 

Oliver stood just inside her balcony window, shoulders slumped, still dressed as Arrow, hood raised. 

The resemblance to how he looked after Tommy’s funeral was so strong it took her breath away. She breathed out his name and crossed to him on shaky legs. She didn’t hesitate. Her arms wrapped around his middle, working their way around the quiver still strapped to his back. 

He actually staggered back a step and the tension rolling off of him felt like a physical force trying to push her away, but she resisted. She laid her cheek against the cool leather and let his scent and strength surround her, finally feeling safe. 

His arms lay limp at his side, his muscles so tight he felt like iron beneath her and when he didn’t respond to her she began to worry. 

“Oliver,” she said with a thick voice, as she lifted her head to look up. The dark room and hood didn’t allow her to see his eyes and she was afraid of what she would find when she could see them. 

Arms shaking with the effort, and muscles protesting she bit her lip against the pain as she reached up and pushed the fabric back. The eyes that stared back were dead and hollow. Her heart clenched, and she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. This was worse than Tommy - this wasn’t Oliver running - this was Oliver giving up. 

Not wasting any time, she grabbed him by the leather strap that kept the quiver in place and used it to turn him and push him down onto the edge of her bed. The absolute lack of resistance from him made small flutters of panic grow in her stomach. 

She should have gone to him immediately. As soon as Lance was gone, she should have found him. She should have known his guilt over killing Mathis would be overwhelming him. 

Working quickly she undid the buckle and caught the quiver before it could spill arrows everywhere. She eased it off his arm and set it to the side, just then noticing the bow he’d leaned against the wall. 

Somehow she knew she needed to get him out of the suit. He still wore it because he felt that all he was in that moment was the Hood; the killer. If she got it off of him maybe she could get him to see Oliver again. 

The sound of the zipper going down on the jacket sounded too loud as she pulled stiff leather off his shoulders, one arm at a time. The black t-shirt he wore underneath, she left alone. Her ribs protested when she knelt to undo his boots, but she ignored them, taking it as part of her penance for what she’d brought down upon them. 

He seemed more aware of her now, actually lifting his legs as she tugged the boots from his feet. 

There was no embarrassment as she took hold of his waist and pulled once, letting him know she needed him to stand. He did so slowly, one of his hands coming to rest on her shoulder and gripping lightly. A grunt of pain escaped her lips and she hoped he didn’t hear it. When his hands intercepted hers at the closure to his pants, she thought maybe he had. 

He got the leather pants as far down as his thighs and then sank onto the bed. She didn’t say a word as she knelt back down and pulled them off carefully. She also didn’t let herself dwell on exactly what she was doing. 

She stood before him, like she had done all those months ago when he was cold and broken after they’d buried Tommy. He looked just as broken now. 

Carefully, she reached out and took his face in her hands. The green paint was still smeared around his eyes, smudged from sweat and what she thought might have been tears. It needed to go, the last bit of his mask. Her eyes cut sharply to her bathroom door and she considered running to grab a towel but she couldn’t leave him. 

Memories flashed through her of when she’d left him alone last time, and coming back to find him trying to rub Tommy’s imaginary blood from his hands. Her fingers fell down his chest and felt the damp material beneath her touch. She hesitated only a second before reaching for the hem of his black undershirt and slowly lifting it up his body, revealing his tanned skin beneath. 

Under any other circumstances, Felicity would have felt a thousand different feelings as she deftly slipped the t-shirt over his head. Fisting it in her hands, she sucked in a breath through her teeth at the over-extension of her ribs from lifting on her toes to ease it off of him. Finding a section that was mostly dry she leaned down once more to cup his face with one hand and used the other to gently wipe the remaining paint from his face with the shirt. 

Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut at the action and a deep bone-shuddering exhale left his lips. It reminded her of the one she’d heard over the comms when Tommy had died and it sent a flair of panic through her until he lifted his lids and stared unmoving at a point over her shoulder.

Throwing the shirt behind her, she brought her other hand to his face, trailing down the side from his temple to his jaw. His eyes looked straight through her when she lifted his head. The emptiness sent a shudder down her spine. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but he didn’t blink, she couldn’t even be sure he heard her. 

“I’m so sorry.” she repeated, her fingers stroking across his jaw, “I should have listened. I shouldn’t have worked with Lance. I shouldn’t have made you help. I’m sorry.” Tears were pouring down her cheeks now as she saw what she’d done to him. 

When his hands raised to hold onto her hips, she jumped at the contact, the heat burning through the thin material of the shirt she wore. 

Painfully slow, his eyes slid their way to hers. “No.” he said, his voice deep and dark. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, yes it is. I pushed you. I knew you wouldn’t tell me no. I knew you’d agree.” her pleas for him to let her accept the blame were becoming increasingly desperate. “This wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”

Oliver continued to shake his head, refusing to let her shoulder the blame despite her pleas. His blue eyes still held that haunting bleakness, and her heart clenched.

Tears continued to trail down her cheeks as her desperation to keep him from the darkness that was threatening to overtake him grew.

Ignoring her body’s protests, she knelt in front of him, coming to rest on the floor between his knees. Her hands roamed over his cheeks, fingers trying to remind him that she was here; that she needed him; that he couldn't leave her.

She'd more than willingly take this burden onto her own heart and soul if it would keep him from crumbling under the weight of the ones he already bore.

"Please, Oliver, look at me," she begged, her voice breaking as she stroked her fingers over his cheeks. "Please don't do this. Don't blame yourself for this. Don't take all of this on yourself. Please. I'm so sorry you went back on your promise because of me...because I didn't listen to your warnings. I wanted to help, to protect the rest of the city, and you were just trying to protect me...and..."

Her words cut off sharply as she inhaled fighting the sob crawling it's way up her dry throat. 

“Am I still a good man?” he asked in a voice she barely recognized - so full of grief and heartache that she suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes widened and her heart fell as he stared at her, the bleakness in his gaze turning to one of a scared boy seeking absolution for failing his best friend once more.

“Oh, Oliver,” she gasped, swallowing to fight past the lump in her throat. “You could never be anything but a good man.”

“But Tommy...I made a promise to do things differently - for Tommy…” Oliver trailed off and Felicity tightened her hold on his face, swiping her fingers under his eyes.

“He’d understand, Oliver,” she cried, tears blurring her vision but her eyes never wavering from his. “He’d understand. You didn’t fail him and you didn’t fail me. You saved me. If you hadn’t...I wouldn’t...I’d be...”

And she couldn’t bring herself to say the words because it had been too close. She could still feel the knife sinking into the soft flesh of her neck and she pressed her eyes shut, regaining control of her emotions before facing him once more.

“Oliver,” she murmured, “You. saved. me.”

When she saw something in Oliver's eyes shift, she knew they both were close to the edge. She pulled his face down, lifting herself up at the same time, and ignoring the pull on her sore muscles. 

She felt wetness beneath her fingertips and realized he was crying as well, and that's when she broke. Pressing her forehead to his, she let the sobs escape. Her cheek came to rest against his; their tears mingling together.

The weight on her heart lessened minutely as she let everything out. Her body protested every heart-wrenching cry that tore through her, but the absolution passing between them was a balm to her rended heart.

The next thing she knew, Oliver’s hands found her waist again, managing to miss the worst of her injuries, and pulled her into his lap. One hand flexed in her hair, while the other tripped over the thin material of her shirt, ghosting across the expanse of her back as if he wanted to hold her closer but didn't want to hurt her. At that point, she didn't care, she pressed herself into the solidness of him, burying her face into his neck, her hands banding around his back and holding him tightly.

He understood her silent plea for contact and hauled her even closer, large hands clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him from falling into the dark void of his own guilt.

She didn't realize she was talking until she felt his muscles slowly begin to relax. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're okay. Everything going to be okay."

Felicity knew she was trying to convince herself as much as him and he must have realized that because soon he was shifting backwards, moving them down the bed until his head found the pillows. Carefully, he wrapped himself around her, tucking her into his chest. Her hands slid over his warm skin, pressing over his pectorals, feeling the beat of his heart underneath her fingertips. It calmed her much like it had the other two times they’d ended up in each other’s arms, seeking comfort.

She felt his own sobs clench and unclench his stomach muscles and she threaded her legs through his own until she couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

She turned her face into his chest and pressed soft kisses over his heart, her lips trailing against the raised scar tissue as if it wasn’t even there - trying to heal his heart without words.

His fingers flexed at her waist and in her hair as she laid one more kiss against his skin, breathing into him with a ragged breath. She felt him tense beneath her before he began to relax once more. 

Eventually, exhaustion took over, the events of the past twelve hours more than taking their toll. Felicity felt him beginning to let the pull of sleep overtake him and gave into it herself, knowing that intertwined in his arms, she was safe and so was he.

Her sleep was dreamless, until it wasn’t. Felicity woke up gasping and clutching her throat where Mathis had just slashed it in her nightmare, Oliver having had to watch the entire thing. 

She was babbling about knives and how hot the blood was on her hands until Oliver loomed over her, his hands covering hers and drawing them down. 

“Felicity! You’re safe!” he said sharply, her eyes flying to his in the pale pre-dawn light. 

Her heart was beating frantically and for a moment she felt trapped and claustrophobic. She planted her hands at her sides and pushed back, immediately crying out in pain as her wrists and shoulders screamed in agony. 

She collapsed onto her back, Oliver’s hands hovering over her as if he didn’t want to risk hurting her anymore. 

“I thought the medics treated you.” he said, slightly angry.

“They did.” she said through clenched teeth as the pain began to diminish some. “I didn’t want to go to the hospital and I didn’t get a chance to take any pain medication. It was okay until I pushed back.” 

The muscles in his jaw tightened and he didn’t hesitate to slip an arm under her back and lift her slightly until she was sitting up against the pillows. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

“Where are the pills?” he asked, a shuttering of the emotions she’d seen laid bare a few hours earlier made her heart ache, but she recognized that having something to focus on was helping him just then. 

“Second drawer in the bathroom.” she instructed. He didn’t hesitate to slide to the floor, the light above the mirror turning on seconds later. 

Felicity let her head fall back as she tried to block out the image of Oliver padding into her bathroom wearing nothing but black boxers. It wasn’t something she thought she was capable of handling just then. 

A slight graze of his fingers across the back of her hand made her open her eyes to see him standing next to her. He handed her two pills and a glass of water which she took without protest, not even checking to see the dose, and fully knowing he could have given her enough to knock her out in the next twenty minutes. 

If the sight of him walking half naked across her room made her stomach flip, the sight of him climbing back into her bed threatened to turn her brain to mush. He settled on his side next to her, head propped up on one hand as he studied her. 

She looked at him sadly, and, for a second, he dropped his control. She could see all of it, the self-loathing, the guilt, the pain, but also the relief and gratefulness that she was safe. He couldn’t process how the one thing he’d vowed to never do again to honor Tommy had ended up being the one thing he had to do to save her life. 

He regained his control, but his gaze dropped; he’d known she’d seen. 

“Oh, Oliver.” she breathed out, a hand coming up to ghost over his jaw. “What we do...it’s not black and white. I know Tommy didn’t understand that...but it’s the reality of what we do. As long as the greater good prevails...you have to be able to live with that. You saved me. Your actions took a life, but they also saved one. I have to believe he would understand that.” 

She waited patiently as he thought through what she’d said and when he finally raised wet eyes she thought she might see a faint flicker of hope in them. 

“Will it always be this hard?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

She gave him a sad smile and stroked across his stubble, “Yes,” she answered honestly. Because as long as it destroyed him this much she knew he was more Oliver than Arrow. 

“Okay,” he breathed out. He captured her fingers and brought them to his lips, his warmth flooding over her as she tried to tramp down the feelings he was bringing forth in her. 

“I can’t regret saving you. I’ll always save you, even if it kills me.” it was a vow and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at him as he let the final brick fall and she saw everything. 

“Oh,” she exhaled. Because she saw it. The love. What they’d been dancing around and pretending they didn’t have to address yet. Because Tommy, and funerals, and 503 dead, and five months on an island, and looters at the club, and tandem jumps, and corporate takeovers, and copycat vigilantes had happened. They were all such good excuses to hide behind. Such excellent justifications for continuing the status quo. Where they could pretend it was how it was before Malcolm Merlyn leveled half the Glades. Before everything changed. 

She ignored the pain in her ribs as she leaned down and felt a self-satisfied grin cross her face as his eyes widened in genuine surprise right before her lips covered his. 

It was chaste and she had to pull back almost as soon as they’d kissed because the pain grew worse, but her lips tingled where they’d touched and she’d felt sparks of electricity all the way to her toes. 

She tried to keep the pain off her face as she settled back but was fairly certain she’d failed as her breath hitched with the effort it took to sit up. His brows drew together and she could see him scrutinizing her every movement. 

A hand lifted to her hairline and traced lightly over the bruise at her temple. He pushed easily up on his hand and her eyes fell shut as she felt him barely brush against the injury. 

Eyes still shut, she didn’t expect it when his lips trailed across her cheekbone, over her nose, down the other side until they found hers. This kiss was so much more. She opened beneath him with a moan as his tongue swept into her mouth. A coil of desire grew within her and when he pulled back she was out of breath. 

Fingers brushed over her jaw and neck and she felt him lightly grasp her chin and tilt it upwards. She’d removed the bandage the medic had placed over the cut on her throat before she’d gotten in the shower. She’d removed all her bandages with the intention of putting new ones on when she got out, but she hadn’t had a chance. 

Again, he moved in, placing tiny kisses from the corner of her mouth down to the inch long mark. His tongue flicked out quickly when he found the spot and her hands tightened in the sheets. 

Slowly, he unfurled her fingers and lifted the hand up so he could inspect the rope burns around her wrist. She saw the flares of anger that went through his eyes in the pale grey light that filtered through her windows. Ever so gently his breath ghosted over the worst spots, the skin just touched by his mouth. When he crossed her pulse point, the breath caught in her throat. 

He proceeded to do the same with her other wrist and by the time he was done she was a quivering mess, her breath uneven and eyes wide as she watched him, not knowing what he might do next. 

He laid her arm down gently and leaned in again for another kiss, this one slow and sweet as his fingers traced over her neck and under the collar of the shirt. A thrill shot through her when she felt him follow the line of her collarbone and then back again, his thumb drawing circles in the hollow of her throat. 

As he drew back his hand skimmed down to the points of the collar, intended to be stiff with starch, but now slightly curled under and softened by wash and wear. He rubbed his thumb over the end and then pulled back to look at it. A sad smile crossed his face as he looked up at her. 

“You kept it,” he said it as a cross between a question and a statement.

She gave him a small shrug. “It...helped.” she admitted, not wanting to add to his guilt, but not wanting to hide anything either. 

He leaned back some and cast an appraising eye over her. “Where else?” 

She looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he meant. 

“Where else are you hurt?” he asked again, voice tighter than the first time he’d said it. 

“My ribs,” she admitted, shifting slightly beneath his gaze and noticing she wasn’t in horrible pain when she did so. The drugs seemed to be working. 

She didn't expect his nimble fingers to fall to the buttons and begin undoing them. 

Half in shock she lay stock still as he slipped one pearl circle free from it’s enclosure before moving on to the next. When he reached the bottom the shirt still lay covering her, only a few gaps here and there showing any skin that hadn’t been covered before. 

Ever so slowly he peeled back the bottom of one side to reveal dark blue boy shorts and the pale expanse of her abdomen. He continued to fold the fabric back until it lay draped over her left arm, the curve of her breast just barely showing. He did the same with the other side, pulling the edge of the shirt towards him, allowing for an unobstructed view. 

Her eyes were locked on his and her mind whirled as she saw the normally bright blue rapidly growing darker. When the flat of his hand rested across her belly, she jumped at the contact, not missing the way the corner of his mouth ticked up at her response. 

Moving carefully he let his hand just skim over her, the heat pulsing from him somehow making her shiver. When his broad hand lay over her injured ribs she saw him look down and take in the bruising. 

His thumb traced along the edge of the mottled skin, gentle enough that it didn’t hurt. Taking his time he ran coarse fingertips over every marred area, as if he thought that by touch alone he could heal her. 

Her heart was beating so quickly she knew it had to visible in her neck, and all she could do was lay back and let him continue. 

When he pushed up onto one forearm and leaned over her, his body heat and scent enveloped her. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, and just like her neck and her wrists he began trailing soft kisses across her injured flesh. 

Felicity’s head fell back with a strangled moan, not even trying to conceal what his actions were doing to her. He took his time as small bursts of heat flowed from his every touch. She twitched beneath him, her breath catching as he moved lower, the next kiss coming dangerously close to her waist. 

She thought she felt his lips curl in a smile when a noise came from the back of her throat unbidden. He took pity on her and worked his way back up as she let herself sink back into her mattress, not even realizing how her back had bowed slightly. The drugs really were working, her shoulders didn’t hurt at all. 

Except Oliver didn’t stop. He moved past the edge of her bruise and kept going. When he nosed the edge of the shirt out of his way and nipped along the underside of her breast she let out a low groan. 

His tongue came out and licked a slow trail around the curve and moved inwards, the shirt now only just covering her nipple. One more small movement and he was sucking the stiff peak into his mouth. 

Felicity gasped his name as her hand fell to his back. Her nails dug in lightly as he drew feelings of pleasure from her, the hot liquid in her belly swirling deliciously. 

There was a part of her that thought this should be strange and awkward, except..it wasn’t. This had been coming since the moment he’d stepped foot in her office, it had just taken them a while to figure it out. And even though she’d known, deep down that she’d been in love with him for so long, she still hadn’t let herself believe it could actually happen. 

His hand slid to cup her jaw, fingers spreading wide to run behind her ear and down her neck as he kissed his way back to her mouth. His teeth bit into her lower lip making her groan as she trailed her hand over the broad expanse of his back. 

Her eyes opened when she felt him brushing loose hair from her face, looking down at her with such an open and free expression, it made her heart swell. 

“Felicity...I have to know. I want you, I want this, but…”

A wide smile spread across her face. “Yes,” was all she said before he surrounded her. The rest of her words were swallowed by his kiss, his arms sliding beneath her and then lifting her up. He took care in pulling the shirt off her arms, gently easing it from her wrists before tossing it off the bed. 

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to wrap her arms around his neck she settled for laying them on his chest instead. As she felt the warm skin and hard muscles, she didn’t regret her restrictions. She’d had a year and a half to learn every scar, and memorize every tattoo, but this was her first chance to show him they didn’t bother her. 

His hands were everywhere; through her hair, across her back, trailing teasing fingers around the waist of her shorts. Hot threads followed wherever he touched and she found herself distracted by his strong, capable hands more than once. 

Raising on her knees she captured his face in her palms, smiling down at him as she stroked over his jaw, his brow, his lips, watching as his eyes fell shut at her ministrations. She pressed a kiss to his temple as his hands came to rest on her hips.

His chin tilted up and she wasted no time in pressing her mouth to his. Her tongue traced along the seam of his lips, before she was gasping into him. His hands followed the curve of her ass and kneaded the flesh, thumbs slipping under the edge of the material and dragging it down. 

She pulled back in surprise, knowing her eyes showed nothing but need and desire. He gave her a naughty grin as he supported her with one arm around her back, laying her on the sheets as he pulled the shorts off the rest of the way. 

“You’re not wasting any time.” she observed breathlessly. 

As the scrap of fabric was dropped to join the shirt, he let his hand trail all the way from her ankle to her hip. “We’ve wasted enough time.” he practically growled, and her heart flipped. 

She was arching again as his thumb found the sensitive skin of her hipbone. One hand on his shoulder she let her nails rake down his side, looking up with half-lidded eyes to see him react. His eyes grew impossibly darker and, somehow, he was laying between her thighs now. Her hips pushed up involuntarily at just the thought. When he let some of his weight sink onto her, she groaned loudly, biting her lip in a vain attempt to stay quiet. 

Both his hands found her breasts, calloused pads of his thumbs cutting across the nipples at the same time. Her head tossed on the pillow unable to do anything but lay limp as her body was drowning in what he was doing to her. 

The low heat in her belly was spreading, and when his mouth fell to her right breast to lave over the nipple, a flare of warmth went up her spine. His tongue swirled, and sucked and every pull was felt in her core, making her hips jerk up into his. 

She could feel him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He was hot and hard, pressing insistently into her thigh. As he continued his unrelenting assault on her breasts she grasped the waistband of the boxers and pushed them down as far as she could, her fingers eagerly discovering newly revealed skin. His teeth biting lightly made her temporarily forget what she was doing as heat flowed through her and a strangled moan tumbled past her lips. 

Her palm coasted over the wide strip of scarred tissue along his lower back, making sure she covered it all before going lower and grasping the well defined curve of his ass. He surged into her with a growl that made her stomach flip. 

There was a flash of movement where he lifted off of her and then he was back, with no barriers between them. She sighed at the feeling of his warm skin laying against her. His lips were on her neck again, licking and sucking as he made his way down her throat and found the spot at the juncture of her shoulder that literally made her mewl. 

He let out a low chuckle at this new bit of knowledge and she could imagine him filing it away for later use. She retaliated by laying her palms on his chest and dragging them slowly down, making sure her nails cut over his nipples. The ragged noise that came from low in his chest made a wicked grin cross her face that was quickly erased by Oliver’s mouth. 

Fingers were making their way south now, skipping across her abdomen as a fire built within her. When he slid a hand along her inner thigh to push it up and to the side, she knew she was a trembling mess. 

Her hips twitched and jerked almost constantly and he hadn’t even touched her where she so desperately needed him. When one finger skimmed through her center, she keened. She threw her head back, gasping, her ability to breathe normally completely lost to her. 

He slid through her wet folds easily and when one talented digit found her clit she could feel the flush creeping up her chest and into her jaw, leaving her mute and unable to think about anything other than what he was doing to her. 

Her knee came up to wrap around his hip, tugging him in closer to her. His answer was to slip one finger inside as his thumb worked her clit in slow, steady circles. 

Felicity’s mouth open and shut as unintelligible words fell out. Her hands rested along his biceps, feeling the play of the muscles underneath them but helpless now as he coaxed her higher and higher. 

Air was a luxury she couldn’t seem to be able to get enough of, her lungs incapable of taking more than short panting breaths. When he added a second finger, she was up on her shoulders, body bowing, his thumb never stopping it’s calculated assault. 

She was right on the precipice as she clawed at his arms, trying to pull him towards her. “I need you,” she managed to get out, and he slowed his hand, letting it fall from her as he crawled up her body. 

In the early morning light she could make out the planes of his face as he braced above her, hands planted on either side of her. Emotions raged behind his eyes and she gave him a soft smile, as she reached up to gently touch his face. 

She drew both her knees up and reached between them. Never dropping her gaze she took hold of his cock, a thrill going through her as she stroked the hard length. His head dipped at the contact, his forehead pressing into hers and she heard his breathing change. 

Not wanting to wait any longer she guided him to her center, letting out a long, low moan as he pushed in slowly. When he was inside her fully he paused and she lay still the feel of him filling her threatening to overwhelm her. 

The impending orgasm she’d felt building before was once again flaring to life. He stroked in and out, never changing his pace. When he kissed her softly she knew he was trying to be careful, trying not to hurt her. But the muscles of his back quivered with the effort he was exerting to control what he really wanted to do. 

She drew her knees up further and pushed her hips into his, changing the angle and leaving both of them gasping. His head fell to her shoulder and she ran a hand over his head. With purposeful calculation she squeezed her internal muscles around him and felt, as well as heard, him groan. 

“I won’t break.” she whispered into his ear. 

He was so close to the edge it was all he needed to hear. She let out a cry as he surged into her. White sparks shot off behind her eyes, and she knew she wouldn’t last long. When his hands slid under her lower back and pulled her up and into him she could only wait as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her. Every stroke into her brought her closer and when he dropped his hand between them to find her clit again she was done for. 

The grunts and gasps spilling from him let her know he wasn’t far behind. She clutched his shoulders as the heat spread out across her center until it was all she knew. Her hips canted upwards, body spasming unable to breathe as she came. 

Oliver continued to thrust into her until she felt the tremor run up his back and he clutched the sheets near her head. A noise between a roar and a growl was torn from him as he buried his face in her neck and shook. 

All that could be heard was their heavy breathing and Felicity’s soft moan as he pulled out of her and rolled to his side, taking her with him. She could hear the thundering of his heart under her ear as she lazily stroked fingers across his chest, not even realizing as she traced the edges of his scars. 

When her breathing had evened out, she felt his fingertips tracing patterns along her shoulder and down her arm. Every now and then his hands delved into her hair and tangled with the strands, gently massaging her scalp. 

Everything was peaceful. Felicity burrowed deeper into his embrace, turning her head and placing a soft kiss over his heart.

His chest rumbled in response, and she smiled. “I love this,” she murmured softly, fingers retracing the lines of his muscles, moving upward until they reached his chin and the stubble that tickled her fingers deliciously.

“Hmmm?” Oliver replied, and she raised her head and flicked her eyes up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.

“Spending my nights with you,” she said honestly, and unlike her verbal gaffe a few weeks ago in his office, this time it had a whole different meaning.

Oliver’s hand found her cheek and stroked a calloused finger across her cheekbone, avoiding the bruises. His mouth ticked upwards in a smile so bright it rivalled any previous ones he’d given her. 

“Me too,” he told her just before his lips captured hers and she got lost in his kiss.

His mouth moved over hers slowly, but thoroughly, and if she had any lingering doubts about what he wanted after tonight, they were erased with that one kiss. When he pulled back, she dropped her forehead to his, and couldn’t help the smile blossoming on her face.

“So that means I don’t just have to use your dress shirt for warmth anymore? I get to have the real thing?” She tried to keep her voice light but it faltered enough for him to hear.

Both hands came to rest on her cheeks, pushing the tangled locks from her face. His eyes were serious, and she could see the honestly they held.

“You have me as long as you want me,” he breathed, and Felicity sighed.

“Then make yourself comfortable,” she replied immediately, leaning down for another soft kiss before snuggling down against his chest. “I don’t plan on letting you go.”

Even though the sun was rising, she felt sleep pulling her back into it’s embrace Just before she drifted off to the sound of Oliver’s heartbeat, she heard him whispered against her ear.

“No more running,” he said solemnly. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms wrapped around her securely and she rested her palm over his heart, his hand coming up to cover it. Twining their fingers together, she knew that no matter what storms would come there way, they would weather them together.


End file.
